


Whumptober 2020 No. 2

by Sapless_Tree



Series: MacGyver Whumptober [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Kidnapped, No. 2 - Freeform, Whump, Whumptober 2020, macgyver whump, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapless_Tree/pseuds/Sapless_Tree
Summary: Whumptober no. 2 "In The Hands Of The Enemy"Prompt: kidnappedAnother punch to the jaw sent pain screaming through Mac’s face. The force of the hit made his head snap back and things go white and silent for a few moments. Lifting his head off the backrest of the chair, Mac waited for his senses to clear back up before he spit blood off to his right.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: MacGyver Whumptober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999582
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Whumptober 2020 No. 2

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii day two here,, did this one a bit rushed so sorry if I forgot some stuff while editing. I'm sure that's a good look, huh?? haha, hope you enjoy anyhow!!
> 
> (also we're ignoring the fact that I had the summary in notes instead of in the summary box at first lmao)

Another punch to the jaw sent pain screaming through Mac’s face. The force of the hit made his head snap back and things go white and silent for a few moments. Lifting his head off the backrest of the chair, Mac waited for his senses to clear back up before he spit blood off to his right. 

“Leave him alone!” Jack shouted struggling against his own restraints-- Jack was in the chair to Mac’s left. Both of them were tied down (wrists behind the chair’s backrest and ankles bound to each front leg), bruised and battered by the large man demanding information from them.

The man’s fist connected swiftly with Mac’s nose. There was a wet crunch followed by a yelp of pain Mac had tried his best to hold in. Blood squirted out, and steadily streamed from his nostrils.

“You will tell me who you come from,” the man spoke in his heavily accented voice in Jack’s direction, “or I will keep to hitting your son.”

“We told you already--” Mac spoke up, breathing loudly and heavily through his likely broken nose. “Nobody sent us. We were just lost looking for the museum,” he claimed, sticking to their ‘lost tourists on a father-son vacation’ cover story.

The man grasped a fistful of Mac’s bloodied shirt, pulling his face as close as the restraints would allow. “Do you think I am stupid? There is not museum near here in miles,” he spat.

“Guess we were pretty lost then, huh?” Jack said, earning Mac a punch to the gut. He hunched over, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. Jack struggled against his restraints again, wanting so badly to be able to take that man out.

“Mac!” He shouted, “Mac, you okay?” Mac was too out of breath to do anything but nod and try to focus on steadying his breathing again even with his nose being broken.

“Fine,” he reassured after a few moments, his voice thin and airy.

Something caught the man’s attention; neither of them could quite tell what, but soon he was speaking. “I will be returned when you are both ready to tell me who you are here from,” he said. He sent a sharp look to the both of them, then he all but rushed out of the room.

Once Jack was sure the man was gone, he turned to his partner.

“This was your idea?!” Jack said, keeping his scolding low in case someone was listening in. “I said we needed to get close to the target, not get kidnapped by his bodyguards!”

“First of all,” Mac said, spitting more blood out of his mouth, “they’re not _bodyguards._ ”

“Whatever.”

“And second,” Mac continued, ignoring Jack’s interruption, “I have a plan.”

Jack scoffed, “was getting kidnapped and wailed on a part of your plan? Because if it was, you’re doing a helluva job there, brother.”

Mac laughed, but it was cut off halfway through when he tried to inhale through his nose. He let out a low groan of pain at the sharp and tender sensation radiating through his face. It was mostly centralized at his nose, but the area around it felt swollen and hurt, too.

“Mac?” Jack said, pulling his eyebrows together in concern.

“It’s fine,” Mac reassured. 

Jack gave his partner a pointed look. “It’s broken, that’s what it is.” Jack had a few bruises of his own, but it seemed the man had noticed Jack’s stronger reaction to watching Mac hurt, and assumed he’d cave and give information to keep his kid from hurting. 

He wished he could.

“You wanna let me in on your plan, then? ‘Cause I’m not looking forward to being here when the big guy gets back with something better to beat you around with.” 

Mac let out a chuckle despite himself. “Yeah,” he agreed-- it would be best to leave before the man or anyone else came back. Suddenly, Mac was pushing his feet against the floor, tipping his chair back. It landed safely on its legs, so he pushed off again, harder.

“Hey, Mac,” Jack said. “What’re you doing there? That thing’s gonna tip over.”

“That’s the idea, Jack,” Mac replied, tipping back again.

“ _Idea?!_ Mac, I thought you said you had a plan!” Jack said. 

“An idea counts as a plan,” Mac said. He tipped back again, this time hard enough to knock the chair completely over. Pain flooded his whole face-- the blood from his nose ran back as he laid like that, threatening to choke him. 

“No, it doesn’t!” Jack countered. Mac twisted his body, getting himself laying on his side in the chair so his back was towards Jack. He hacked up the blood, moaning at the pain the gesture brought. “What are you doing now?” 

Using his legs, Mac pushed the back of his chair up against the back legs of Jack’s chair. “Getting us out of here, unless you’d like to do the honors.”

“No, no,” Jack said. “Go right ahead.” Mac angled the ropes restraining his wrists against the sharp corner of the chair leg and began to rub the binds against it. It was slow-going cutting into the thick rope with just the chair leg, but working all the same. It was an eternity before the friction finally cut through the rope all the way, but as soon as it did, Mac was untangling the rest of it from his wrists and untying his ankles.

Mac was working on Jack’s wrists when the two heard the door clicking open.

“ _Mac,_ ” Jack warned, willing his partner to go faster.

“I know, Jack,” Mac shot back.

The door swung over, the man walking back in. He stopped dead in his tracks, seeing Mac free and crouched down, untying Jack. Mac didn’t have enough time to finish before the man grabbed him and dragged him away from Jack’s chair.

“What do you think you are doing?!” The man yelled. Holding Mac by the collar, he thrusted the boy's body at the fallen empty chair, earning a cry from Mac. It was more out of surprise than anything, but the arm of the chair dug into his side at a strange angle, knocking the wind out of him.

Despite Jack’s protests, the man wasted no time getting on top of Mac and raining his fist down on the blond’s face.

Mac tried to twist his body away and raise his hands to protect his face, but the man was a lot bigger and stronger than him.

Jack was shouting something as the man hit Mac. One particular punch hit him in the already broken nose, making Mac scream. Another directly to his left eye made it spurt involuntary tears as it slowly swelled shut. 

A swift kick to the gut and the man was pulling Mac up by the hair, rightening the fallen chair, and pushing him into the seat. Blood flowed from his nostrils and from a split in his lip. Mac flicked his tongue over the cut on his lip, tasting blood. The man forced Mac’s arms back behind the backrest and tied the tight, then moved to secure Mac’s ankles to the chair as well.

Mac couldn’t hold his own head up; he wavered around between consciousness and unconsciousness, knowing he shouldn’t pass out after so many blows to his head and face, but not really wanting to be awake for whatever else the man planned to do to get Jack to talk. 

“Are you ready to talking? Tell me who you come from,” the man said.

Mac coughed a few times and lifted his head a little as Jack remained silent. “You could,” Mac began, interrupted by a few more coughs and a spit of blood, “could… stand to brush up on your English.” Mac let out a wheezy laugh that trailed off into a cough.

The man wasted no time striking Mac across the face. Mac groaned, low and pained as his head dropped back down to his chest. The man gripped Mac by the hair, forcing it up so he looked at him.

“Do you think you are funny?” The man snarled, spit flew from his mouth and landed on Mac’s bloody and swollen face. Mac stayed silent, knowing (and already feeling) the consequences of any wrong word. “Because I do not.” The man turned his head to Jack. “You will tell me what you know, _now._ ”

Jack looked at his kid's poor face; Mac’s left eye had completely swollen shut, deep bruising surrounding the whole thing. His nose was still bleeding, leaving most of his lips and chin covered in it-- there was a split in the skin horizontally across the bridge of his nose, and it looked swollen. Dark bruising had settled underneath both of Mac’s eyes from his broken nose. A line of bruises was littered along his smarting jaw, and Jack could only imagine how much it all hurt. And that was only the injuries he could see-- Jack didn’t forget how the man had hit Mac in the gut, he wouldn’t be surprised if a rib or two had cracked.

“We don’t know anything,” Jack said, despite him desperately wishing he could just give this man every secret he knew. Mac was hit in the jaw again, teeth clacking together painfully.

‘ _Now would be a great time for a miracle,_ ’ Jack thought humorlessly. What he got wasn’t quite a miracle, but Jack thought it was just as good. There was a commotion stirring outside the room, and a different man flew the door open, shouting some orders in a language Mac and Jack didn’t understand. They didn’t need to understand the instructions to know that things were bad for them.

The man quickly went with the other that had flung the door open, pausing only to yell at the two captives. “You stay here or I hunt you down and kill you!” And with that, the man was gone again. 

“Mac,” Jack said, not even waiting for the door to fully close before he tugged on his restraints, “Mac are you okay-- talk to me.”

Mac bobbed his head lazily, “mmhm, ‘s good.”

“I’d love to believe you there buddy, I really would, but I’m not liking the way you’re slurring,” Jack said, concern lacing his voice.

Mac ran his tongue gingerly over his split and bloodied lips. “Not concussed,” he managed as if reading Jack’s mind. “Jus’ hurts to talk.”

Jack watched Mac blink hard as if trying to focus. “Not sure I agree about that concussion, but we can talk about it later. That big brain of yours still working?”

“Always,” Mac said.

“Well good,” Jack replied, eyeing his injured partner again. “Maybe we can get out of here for real this time?” Mac nodded again. For the second time, he knocked himself over in the chair (his face hurt so bad-- did it hurt that much last time he did it?) and got his ropes undone. This time, though, he was able to fully untie Jack as well. “Well done, brother,” Jack commended. “What’s step two of your plan?”

“Well...” Mac drawled looking around the room. He was holding his side and breathing heavily-- or as heavily as he could while not being able to breathe out of his nose and coughing out the blood from it every few minutes-- a rib or two were very likely broken in there.

“I swear to God Mac if you say ‘improvise’ I’m gonna--” the lights shut out, making him stop halfway through his empty threat. “You think that’s Riley?” 

Mac nodded. “Who else?”

“Well, what’s she doin’ playing with the lights instead of tracking us?”

“She’s not…” Mac paused to cough, moaning and holding his side a bit more when he’d finished, Jack took notice but knew that they needed to get out before they could get him looked at. “Not playing. She prob’ly needs help to--” a sharp wince from when he’d tried to inhale through his nose, “--to find us. Telling us to… give her sm’th’ng to look-- to look for”

“Yeah, makes sense. No comms, no phones,” Jack mused. Mac grunted-- some non-committal confirmation, but Jack couldn't help but give his partner a sympathetic glance.

“We j’st have to get her attention,” Mac said after a few moments of scrutinizing the room for usable items. Mac went to setting the knocked chair upright and standing on it to reach the ceiling. He pushed up on the ceiling tile panel, pulling out wiring from above the fluorescent light. “Jack get the batteries from--” Mac coughed roughly, wiping his face and smearing blood on his forearm. “--from that smoke detector,” Mac finished. 

Jack knew better than to ask why; the kid would try to explain as he worked, which Jack knew would cause more pain then Mac was already in. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d understand what it meant anyway. No matter how many times he’d watched Mac in the field, he’d never be any less amazed by the things his partner was able to do.

Mac got down off the chair, seemingly satisfied with his handful of wires and garbage. 

“Here, Mac,” Jack said, handing over the batteries. He watched Mac fiddle with the things-- even not knowing what his partner was doing he could tell Mac’s hands were clumsier and motions slower than normal. He’d seen him work his magic often enough to know that, as impressive as his display was, Mac’s brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. 

Jack couldn’t help himself, finding the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “What’re you making?” He asked, adding on, “please tell me it’s a gun, I’d love you for that, man.”

Mac shook his head, chuckling softly and wincing as the air huffed out of his chest. “No gun. Signal,” he said, breathing is erratic bursts. “Signal Ri,” he said as if it were any kind of elaboration.

“Good plan, kid,” Jack said, “what do I do?”

Mac silently waved him off, fiddling with the signal another few moments before smiling. “Not a plan,” he muttered. “Idea.” 

It relaxed Jack a bit that the blond was well enough to still make jokes, but he wasn’t any less alert, watching for any changes in Mac’s responsiveness or consciousness. 

“Riley’s-- Ri, she’s... gotta--” Mac groaned and hunched over a bit, panting, “--do... the…”

“Woah, Mac,” Jack said, gently guiding Mac to one of the chairs, “sit down a sec, take a breath,” he said as Mac continued to try and struggle through the sentence. It sounded as if it were supposed to be something like ‘Riley’s gotta do the rest,’ but Mac never quite got it all out.

“Hey, hey,” Jack interrupted, putting a soothing hand on Mac’s arm, “I get it, it’s okay. Riley’s smart, she’s got it. Just take a breather, yeah, kid?”

Mac merely nodded, not trusting himself to be able to make out a full reply.

“Good,” Jack said. He watched over Mac as he caught his breath again; Jack couldn’t help but notice the arm Mac had snaked back around his abdomen. Must be hurting him bad. Jack wanted nothing more than to take the pain away, but it didn’t work that way. 

It was nice to slow down and relax for the first time since the mission started. Riley would figure out where they were, someone would come and get them (and by the commotion outside it sounded as if maybe they already had), and they’d be at exfil in no time. Another look at Mac and Jack could see his partner’s good eye starting to droop. He shook Mac’s shoulder.

“Mac, hey, I said take a breather, not a nap. You’re not allowed to sleep,” he said.

“Not concussed,” Mac said for the second time. “Eyes hurt.”

“The lights aren’t even on, bud if your eyes are bugging you then--” Mac cut Jack off.

“Not the light,” he said, waiting a moment as Jack pulled up the other chair and sat down next to his partner. “Bruised-- hurts to open.” Jack studied Mac’s expression for a while. The heavy bruising under Mac’s eyes from the broken nose did look pretty bad.

“You can close ‘em-- er well, _it_ \--” he amended as only one of Mac’s eyes were capable of the whole ‘opening’ thing at the moment anyways “--on one condition. You gotta keep talking so I know you’re not drifting off on me. Okay?”

Mac shut his eye. “Soun’s fair,” he said. “What’cha wanna talk about, old man?”

“How about we start with the concussion you’re so convinced you don’t have?” Mac laughed, cutting off with a pained moan.

“Pass,” he said. “How about that-- that date you’ve…” Mac coughed and spat more blood to the side “...been avoiding telling me about?”

“God no,” Jack said with a laugh. “Nothing to tell. Besides, you’re the one that’s supposed to be talking, not me. So go on-- what hurts?”

“Would-- would it su’prise you if I said m’face?” Mac said with whatever sad excuse of a smile his broken features could still make.

“Couldn’t have guessed,” Jack joked. “How about your side? You’ve been holding it for a while now,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah...” Mac said. “It’s okay, n’thing major.”

“You’re well enough to lie to me, I see,” Jack said. Mac let out a careful laugh. “Out with it. I may not be able to build an entire helicopter out of a paper clip, two sticks, and a piece of tape, but I’m not stupid.”

“That’s not-- not p’ssible,” Mac said. “No fuel.”

“Whatever, you get my point; we both know that the more you resist help the harder it’ll be when medical gets a look at you--” Jack spoke louder before Mac could cut in. “And _yes_ , you will be going to medical, there will be no arguing your way out of it. So you may as well just tell me what’s damaged because I’m going to find out anyways.”

With a sigh (and subsequent coughing fit) Mac felt around at his side, wincing and grunting as he did. “Feels like… two broken. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Jack asked

“Maybe three,” Mac admitted.

“Jeez, kid,” Jack said. He let out a breath and they were quiet for a moment. Jack didn’t like that-- with Mac’s eyes shut he couldn’t tell when he was or wasn’t conscious. “You still awake over there?”

“Yeah, Jack,” Mac replied.

“Good. Keep talking.” 

If Mac could have rolled his eyes, he probably would have at Jack’s insistence to look after him. But it was nice-- Mac wouldn’t admit it-- but Jack provided a great distraction for him while the two waited for Riley. Riley would get there quickly and the two would be patched up and good as new soon. But until then, the two settled for just talking, the conversation light, and banter flying easily.

**Author's Note:**

> Is the bruise formation speed inaccurate? Yes. Do I care? No. Have a lovely day/night.


End file.
